


Pretty in Pink

by Selena



Category: Babylon 5, Firefly
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Multiverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-22
Updated: 2005-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 08:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selena/pseuds/Selena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two professional caretakers meet when their lives are in transition. Inara encounters Vir Cotto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty in Pink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hobsonphile](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Hobsonphile).



> Disclaimer: Characters and situations owned by Joss Whedon and Babylonian Productions, respectively.
> 
> **Timeline:** post-_Objects in Space_ for Firefly, just pre-_Epiphanies_ in season 4 for Babylon 5. No movie spoilers.
> 
> Author's note: Originally written for Multiverse 2005, for Hobsonphile. 

* * *

Of all the things she had expected to see last before she died - the face of a client she had misjudged, silk covering her eyes, a doctor's concerned frown, or, more likely by the week she spent on Serenity, a gun - a purple ship had not been anywhere on the list. It had to be the lack of oxygen, Inara decided, and kept staring at the vessel that appeared on the viewscreen of her shuttle. Alliance, leftover Independents, even Reavers - nobody, but nobody used purple spaceships.

She passed out.

* * *

Inara had been on her way back to Serenity when things had started to go wrong. The shuttle began to shake as if hit by plasma bolts, but there weren't any ships in the area. Even Serenity itself wasn't visible any more, despite the fact she had just talked with Wash a moment ago. Then all the viewscreens showed were random static flickers, and space itself began to be an amalgam of colours whirling around her. While she was good enough at flying her shuttle, Inara Serra was no trained pilot. She did the sensible thing and called Serenity for help at once. All she heard back were crackling noises, and the strange, whirling colours did not go away, they just settled for being predominantly orange. As it turned out, the ship still functioned; she could turn it around. But there was no planet to return to, nothing but the strange, unfamiliar space. It was tempting to believe in a long nightmare, possibly caused by a potent drug. Briefly, she toyed with a scenario in which her latest client had been an ally of Saffron's who had somehow managed to inject her with something. But drug-addled dreams usually did not allow for hours of boredom while one desperately tried to wake up.

By the time the purple ship showed up, she had started to theorize about being trapped in someone else's hallucination instead. River's, presumably.

* * *

The doctor who greeted Inara when she regained consciousness wasn't Simon, though, which put a dent in the River theory. He didn't look that different from the medical personnel in any of the hospitals she frequented for the annual check-ups the guild demanded. The sterile clothing he wore meant she'd probably ended up on an Alliance facility. His dark, concerned face relaxed when he saw she was awake.

"Don't worry," he said, "you're safe. You were lucky that Centauri liner found your shuttle, though."

"What were you doing so close to Quadrant 14?" demanded a new voice, coming from a man in uniform who stood somewhat further away from the bed they had put her on. The uniform wasn't any she was familiar with, either.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Inara said truthfully and tried to sit up in order to take in more of her surroundings. Which was when she saw a reptilian creature with red eyes, big as a man, striding up towards the doctor.

It took all the discipline learned through years of Companion training not to scream.

* * *

She was, they told her, on a space station named Babylon 5. Nobody had heard of the Alliance, but they claimed they were ruled by Earth-that-was, or used to be; there was a civil war going on, apparently. And non-human life forms were an every day occurence.

Naturally, Inara was still inclined to favour the drugged-out-of-her-mind theory.

"So you're saying Earth doesn't exist any more where you come from, but everyone is human? No Minbari? No Centauri? No Shadows?" asked the doctor.

"I could live with that," commented the other man, who kept pulling at his uniform so much that even someone without Companion training could have seen it was new to him, and that he wasn't very comfortable in it. He had introduced himself as Zack Allen. "What do you think, Doc, did she get here from the future? Quadrant 14 is where Babylon 4 disappeared, isn't it? Or did she just knock her head very badly?"

For now, it was probably best to play along, until she could find out more, including a way to return. Inara might have planned on leaving Serenity and its Captain as far behind as possible, but getting stranded in some bizarre place that might not even exist was not how she had intended to do it. But hallucination or not, mind game or not, these two were still men, and men she knew how to handle. After a little exercise in demure smiles, she received more information.

Her shuttle had been found "in hyperspace, far from a jumpgate", all terms she wasn't familiar with, by a ship on its way from a planet called Centauri Prime to Babylon 5. Right now, it was being examined by Mr. Allen's personnel, since nobody had seen a similar model before. Inara herself was declared to be human and, save for some earlier oxygen deprivation, healthy, but despite nobody saying so outright, she could sense both the doctor, whose name was Franklin, and Zack Allen weren't willing to just let her walk away. Which was either due to some distrust on their part due to the civil war situation they had mentioned, or because of the fact she was presently part of some strange elaborate hoax or experiment conducted by she did not know who.

There were several creatures looking non-human in medlab, not just the reptilian one who had arrived earlier. Once Inara had got past the first shock, she wondered whether a touch would reveal them as costumed, but a part of her, the part who felt nostalgic whenever observing Kaylee's wide-eyed wonder about something, hoped despite it all they wouldn't be. Finding alien life did exist after all would be fascinating.

In the end, Mr. Allen assigned her a security guard "for her protection" and declared he had to leave; the doctor moved on to other patients as well. Which left Inara conversing with the security guard, who couldn't or wouldn't add much to what she had already learned, until he said:

"Look, lady, we've had our share of Clark's spies on this station. No offense, but someone showing up here, just after the Shadows have gone and the folks at home can concentrate on Babylon 5 again? The old chief would have had you in a security cell, not in medlab, that's for sure."

She decided to meditate for a while in order to clear her thoughts, if that was possible, when someone coughed in her vicinity. Inara looked up and saw a young man with an extravagant hair style approaching her hesitatingly. As opposed to everyone else, he wasn't wearing a uniform or medical outfits, but what looked like finely tailored trousers and a brown waistcoat made of silk. On Persephone, this would have marked him as wealthy, but the body language wasn't confident at all. And none of the young dandies on the inner planets would have shaved their head and left a single peacock-like crest in the middle intact.

"I- just came to ask Dr. Franklin how you were, and he said I should ask you," the young man said hastily, and added he had been a passenger on the ship that had found her shuttle.

"Ah, then I owe you my life," Inara said graciously. The young man blushed and raised his hands as if in protest.

"Oh no. I mean, the captain would have stopped for your shuttle anyway, he just was afraid because of the war, I mean, you don't owe anyone anything. But I'm glad you are alright."

For a moment, his embarrassment gave way to a deep sadness.

"There have been so many deaths. So many."

She thought of Mal and Zoe, of one particular Alliance commander who came to her after his entire platoon got wiped out by Independents, of wounds still bleeding years after war had its gluttony of corpses.

"Yes," Inara said softly. "On both sides."

The young man flinched. He looked haggard, as if he had suffered a recent weight loss, and she could see from the tenseness of his posture and the red-rimmed eyes that he hadn't slept much lately. If he was part of an elaborate mind game, he was the best actor she had ever seen, and she had been trained in the art herself.

"What is your name?" she asked, and he told her he was Vir Cotto, attache to the Centauri Ambasssador. Inara recalled the Centauri had been among the alien races Zack Allen had named, but the extravagant hairstyle aside, young Mr. Cotto looked entirely human. He mentioned something about having been away from the station for a while, visiting his home world, and then, embarrassed, said he probably was keeping her from important things and should be going, now that he had found out she was well. Touched and amused despite her lingering suspicions about the entire situation, Inara shook her head.

"On the contrary. Your visit was the most pleasant thing that happened to me today," she said. Vir Cotto blushed again and gave her a shy smile. That was when she noticed his teeth were slightly longer than those of a human man. It was just a tiny detail, certainly nothing as extravagant as the sight of the reptilian creature earlier, but it was at this moment that Inara thought: This is real. This is all real, not a complicated fake. And then the second realization came, inevitable and pushed aside until now.

If this was real, there was a good chance she would never find her way back.

* * *

After another hour in medlab during which Inara kept quiet and observed what she could about the hectic proceedings around her, Mr. Allen returned with a red-headed woman in tow and declared that if she agreed to be scanned for her good intentions, she was free to go, Dr. Franklin having declared her to be healthy and well. Surprised, Inara looked at the woman. The existence of psychics was accepted within the Alliance, but they were incredibly rare. She knew that Simon suspected this was what the people hunting down River and himself had tried to change his sister into, but this woman had nothing of River's tortured, childlike aura about her. And the security chief didn't give the impression that the existence of a psychic was regarded as something extraordinary.

"By all means," Inara said slowly. The dark eyes of the woman fixed on her, and she imagined she could feel something. Not a touch exactly, more something like an ant quickly crawling over her skin. Then it was over.

"She didn't lie to you," the woman told Mr. Allen. "There is no connection to Clark, or to the Shadows or Vorlons, or to the Corps, if that's what you're wondering. She truly comes from a completely different world and has no idea why she ended up here."

He sighed, as if he had hoped for another explanation, thanked the redhead and told the guard he could leave. Inara felt less than grateful or reassured, but told herself that there was no sense in brooding over the possible loss of everything she had known just yet. If one incomprehensible accident had brought her here, another might bring her back. In the meantime, she would try to make the best of her surroundings, but the medlab was rapidly losing its dubious charm.

"May I go as well, Mr. Allen?" she asked in her most charming and soothing manner.

"Well, I suppose there is no reason why..." he began, and looked at the redhead again.

"I'm not a soothsayer, Zack," the woman said tersely. "I can't tell you whether she's going to be trouble in the future."

"I have no intention..." Inara began, and the psychic interrupted her.

"Nobody does. This place just brings it out in everybody. Incidentally, if you're stuck here, you should start earning some cash right away. The quarters aren't free, you know."

The last statement was accompagnied with a pointed look at Zack Allen, who pressed his lips together and exuded guilt. There was obviously some subtext here that had nothing to do with Inara, and Allen's body language seemed to indicate he was attracted to the redhead, but that wasn't Inara's concern. As opposed to the point the woman had raised. She had some money with her, and of course the codes of her personal accounts, as well as the emergency account the Guild provided. None of which could help her here. The cash was worthless, and the Guild didn't even seem to exist in this universe.

Fortunately, Inara Serra was a resourceful woman. Normally she wouldn't stoop to playing the damsel in distress, as opposed to a certain individual whose many aliases included Saffron, but she wasn't about to end up in the local equivalent of a beggar's shelter, either. Zack Allen found himself enveloped in her most pleading gaze and treated to the sight of her body in the medical gowns that normally should not cling but strangely did now.

"Ah, but I have always relied on the kindness of strangers."

****

As it turned out, the living space situation on Babylon 5 was really something of a problem, at least where decent quarters were concerned. Apparently there were still a lot of refugees on the station, who had lost their planets to some beings called Vorlons and Shadows, and though Zack Allen tried valiantly, he couldn't find anything on such short notice.

"There is the Alien Sector," he said at last. "Ambassador Mollari isn't back from Centauri Prime yet, so his quarters are empty. Normally I wouldn't even suggest this, but Lyta said you're harmless, and his aide Vir is a generous guy, so I suppose we could ask whether you could stay there for a night or two."

Recalling the amiable young man who had visited her, Inara said: "He was on the ship that rescued me. Perhaps I should ask him myself."

Zack showed her how to use the Babcom, which wasn't that different from going on the Cortex, and it wasn't long until she saw her visitor again. She explained the situation.

"Oh. Well, Londo doesn't usually ... but this isn't usual, and a lady really shouldn't ... what I mean is, yes, of course you can stay there. I'll just have to ... because Londo is really concerned about security these days, so I'm the only one who has all the access codes, and he'd be really mad if I let a stranger in alone ... not that you'd do anything, I'm sure you wouldn't, but ..."

He blushed again, this time intensely so.

"... I'll have to stay there for the night as well. But it's a really huge suite, so don't worry about ... I mean ..."

He turned crimson, and she thanked him to spare him further reassurances . The babbling habit reminded her of Wash, and Inara felt a pang of homesickness. This, she told herself, was ridiculous. It had been less than 48 hours since she had left Serenity to keep her appointment with her last client, and besides, she had been planning to leave the ship and crew behind altogether soon. Still. She could imagine everyone on board Serenity now, having dinner; Wash and Zoe exchanging comfortable married banter, utterly at ease with each other, Kaylee trying to get Simon to relax a bit more, River making one of her cryptic, strangely poetic statements, Jayne coming up with the inevitable crude remark, Book trying to engage Mal in a conversation, and Mal ... But she wouldn't think of Mal now. Not thinking of Mal was the purpose of her entire plan to leave, wasn't it?

She was a Companion, not some lovesick girl without common sense. And her common sense told her to concentrate on the here and now, which was complicated enough.

"See, I told you, Vir's a great guy," Zack said, once she had finished her conversation on the Babcom. "But you know, Lyta had a point. You don't know how long you're going to be here, and everyone needs money. What did you do, back in your part in the galaxy? Are you a dressmaker or something like that? Because we sure need one here."

Uncomfortably, he shifted in his uniform jacket.

"Not exactly," Inara replied, and tried her best to explain what a Companion was. Apparently, the universe conspired against her and wanted to remind her of Mal no matter what she was resolved on, as Zack Allen said, shocked: "You mean you're a whore?" And then blushed, albeit not as deeply as Vir Cotto had earlier.

"A Companion is not a whore," Inara said patiently. "It is a great honour for a man to be selected as a client, and the Guild is among the most respected instutions in the Alliance." Mal would have said something snide about there not being much competition, or about all Alliance institutions consisting of whores. Zack Allen tried his best to cover his earlier gaffe.

"Right. Well. Err. Of course, we have prostitutes here, too. And, hm, I don't think people would see the difference, plus there are some pimps in Down Below who are just bad news and try to get a piece of every, hm, working girl's income. So maybe you should try another profession, Ms. Serra. Surely a woman like you could?"

And there it was again, the idea that she should long to escape her chosen profession. It annoyed her in Mal. Hearing it from Zack Allen filled Inara with unease. If there really was no equivalent of a Companion in this society, she was cut off from her usual source of income. There was no way she would allow herself to be treated like a whore. She doubted that the various smuggling operations she had witnessed on board Serenity would provide her with enough experience to try life as a crook, either. Assisting Simon now and then had given her some nursing skills, so she might have to return to Medlab after all and ask Dr. Franklin for a provisionary job. He looked as if he might need additional personnel, given all the hectic goings-on she had observed.

She would think about that tomorrow, Inara decided. Tonight, she'd sleep in some alien Ambassador's quarters and hope that if she woke up, the entire past day would turn out to have been one strange dream after all.

* * *

Vir Cotto's absent superior lived in style, which was a more than welcome relief. Outside of her shuttle, Inara hadn't seen that much purple and silk decor since she had left her House. She complimented Vir on it, and he returned with a touch of pride that Centauri Prime was famous for its silk, tapestries and dresses.

"You should visit," he added warmly. "Now that the Emperor is ... now that things have calmed down."

And again, a mantle of sadness seemed to have fallen on his stooped shoulders.

"I'm really grateful for the hospitality, Mr. Cotto," Inara said, to distract him, and pointed to the portrait that hung from one of the walls, which showed a middle-aged man sporting the same extravagant hair style as Vir Cotto did, only in an even more outrageous fashion.

"Is this the ambassador?"

Vir nodded, and the eagerness of his reply told her he was either grateful for the change of topic or fond of speaking about his employer.

"Yes, that's Londo. You know, I should really refer to him as the Prime Minister now, but it's such a new title. And anyway, I think he likes the older one better. Which is really strange, because at first he didn't. He thought it was something of a joke. But now, just before I left, he told me he'd be back on the station himself soon."

Inara put the bag with her belongings from the shuttle on the floor and decided to sit down on the very comfortable looking sofa. If the ambassador was to return soon, she really couldn't hope for more than one or two nights here.

"I could make dinner," Vir offered shyly. "You must be hungry by now, my lady."

Being adressed in such a polite, formal way was strangely soothing, and she was hungry. But she hadn't forgotten how exhausted and sleep-deprived the young man seemed to her. Perhaps some conversation, and then he should have his chance to rest.

"Missing a meal now and then is good if you're a woman," Inara said with a smile. "Don't exert yourself, Mr. Cotto. Sit down and tell me something more about your planet. I must admit it still seems like something out of a fairy tale to me. Are you somehow related to humans? We do look a lot alike."

Vir looked embarrassed.

"No," he said. "I mean, there was this time when we first met the humans, and some people thought they might be a lost colony of ours, but that wasn't exactly ... well, we might look a lot alike, but there are, hm, really enormous ... differences. Anatomically speaking. Um. Are you sure you don't want anything to eat? Because it wouldn't be any exertion. I like preparing meals. It was the first thing I thought I was finally good at, when I came here." Almost as an afterthought, he added: "It's not like I'm going to sleep now anyway."

"I promise you not to snore," Inara said, unable to resist a little teasing.

"Oh no, I didn't mean ... I have nightmares," Vir confessed, unhappily.

She had suspected as much, recognising the signs. If she were younger, she would wonder why such a gentle creature would be haunted by nightmares, but she had left that kind of naivete behind long before boarding Serenity. In truth, exhausted as she was, she doubted she'd be able to sleep herself. If she had nothing else to distract her, her thoughts would inevitably conjure up her own set of nightmares; Nandi, and her failure to save one of her dearest friends. She should have killed the bastard when she had the chance, and then Nandi would be alive today.

"Then allow me to help you with the preparations," Inara said, "and we'll have dinner, but I really do want to learn more about your home planet as well."

The kitchen wasn't much larger than on Serenity, and had been restocked with food and drinks just a few hours before, which confirmed that the ambassador would return soon. Vir declared some of the food to be off limits, as it wasn't compatible with human physiology, and put down the food that was compatible for preparation. Genuine food, not protein rations. Inara missed her tea supplies, as the ceremony would have helped her to ground herself, but discovered to her delight that the pottery the Centauri used did not look too different. If only she had known she could return to the universe she was familiar with, she would have thoroughly enjoyed this. Listening to Vir explaining about the Centauri and Centauri Prime, she found herself increasingly fascinated. Mal, of course, would have hated everything about it, starting with the fact the Centauri were a monarchy.

But she wasn't going to think about Mal any more than she was about Nandi.

By the time they got around to eating, Vir had arrived at a point in his narration he was clearly uncomfortable with. He had talked about music and food and traditions at length, but present-day politics seemed to make him squirm, and the unhappiness she had observed earlier when they both talked about different wars had returned. It was impossible for her to leave someone she liked in such a state, so she quickly changed the topic of conversation.

"This tastes delicious, Mr. Cotto."

He beamed at her, clearly delighted by the compliment and grateful for the distraction. "Really? Oh, and please, call me Vir, my lady. Everyone else on the station does."

"Then you must call me Inara. And surely not everyone does, given your position?"

This last remark had been intended as a friendly way of teasing; given what he had said about the importance of titles among the Centauri, he must value his own as an acting ambassador in the absence of his superior. It occurred to her that that Mal used to call her "Ambassador", though not in recent weeks. It had started out as a joke and had stopped being funny when he had used it to taunt Book.

"There are some Drazi who call me Mr. Cotto," Vir said dubiously, "but other than that ..."

"Well, it doesn't matter what people call you," Inara said, still thinking of the man she didn't want to think about. "As long they do so in respect."

Vir made a face. "Now you sound like Londo. You know, I think respect is overrated. Well, the kind that people show, anyway. It's nice when they feel it, but sometimes they do for all the wrong reasons. When people think you're a joke they at least don't think you're going to attack their planet next."

"There should be something between those two extremes, Vir," Inara said, mentally adding two and two and coming up with the reason why Vir was so uncomfortable talking about present-day politics and so sad when talking about recent wars.

"Yes," he said sadly. "But there isn't often. When Lyndisti ..." Abruptly, he interrupted himself. "I'm sorry. I don't want to bore you."

"You aren't," Inara said, taking some more of the cooked vegetable that would have made Kaylee sigh in delight. "I'm a woman of good fortune. Not only rescued from certain death but being wined and dined and entertained by a true gentleman. And you know, Vir, it would make me feel better if I could do something for you in return. Tell me about Lyndisti."

She was being sincere, but every word still was calculated. That was what made her a Companion. Her training never left her. She wanted to put Vir at ease, and she was an expert listener. Besides, Vir gave the impression of really wanting to talk; she could tell. "Lyndisti is my fiancee," Vir said unhappily. "I thought her family would end the engagement after I stopped being the ambassador to Minbar, which I was for a while because ... anyway, Londo had arranged that. And I didn't want a fiancee in the traditional way, only then I met Lyndisti and I really liked her, and then I found out ... well. I wish I could help her, but I don't want to marry her. But she still wants to marry me. And now that Londo is the Prime Minister, her family is interested in me again, and wants us to marry immediately. And I don't want to hurt her, but I can't ..."

He had stopped eating altogether and looked at Inara with wide, mournful eyes.

"I always hoped I'd find a wife I could love. Maybe even someone who could love someone like me. And for a brief while, I thought ... have you ever fallen in love with someone who kept doing horrible things you completely disagree with, my ... Inara?"

"I am a Companion, Vir," she said, deliberately avoiding the question and hoping he would not notice. "We are not supposed to fall in love with our clients. But based on our brief acquaintance, I find it easy to believe your fiancee would fall in love with you."

He managed to look grateful and sceptical at the same time, and she wondered who had given him the impression that he was not worthy of love. She was not surprised it had happened. Those of her clients who were vulnerable usually displayed the same conviction.

"Is what she did what made you decide you can't love her?"

_We are what our actions define us as_, Inara thought. That was what Mal with his insistence that he respected her even if he disdained her profession couldn't understand. But then, the religion he so proudly insisted on having left behind had formed him more than he would ever understand. He still believed in that doctrine about hating the sin but loving the sinner without realizing the ongoing insult in it.

"No," Vir said to her surprise, sounding very serious and far older than his years. "I mean - what she did was horrible. But then, so were many of the things Londo has done in recent years, and I ... well, there is a difference. Because she enjoyed it, and she still does and doesn't understand why it was wrong. Londo always knew. He did it anyway, but he knew. She doesn't ... Inara, I've seen people suffer horribly. I've seen them tortured, I've seen them die. I can't love somebody who enjoys doing this to them."

This was so much worse than anything she had suspected and made her problems look paltry in comparison. She reached out to him, her hand touching his, and noticed that the texture of the skin wasn't different from any human skin. Maybe he was wrong about their people not being related.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, and because he had shared such a painful thing with her, she felt she owed him honesty in return. Besides, it would be good to say it out loud just once. "No, I never fell in love with someone for whom this is true. I was lucky. But I did fall in love with a man who wants to change me into what I am not. Or maybe I'm the one who wants him to change. But it wouldn't have been good for either of us, and so I left. You should tell your fiancee and her family that there will be no marriage now, because believe me, it will just get more difficult with time."

Slowly, Vir nodded, and hesitantly repeated her words:

"I'm sorry."

He hadn't asked what a Companion was. But then, a society full of arranged marriages and a strict class structure would more likely than not be familiar with the concept of a courtesan, more so than the humans on this station at any rate.

"Will you try to find a way back?" Vir asked, as if sensing her thoughts. "To your world? Or do you want to remain here? Well, not _here_ here obviously, because Londo will be back tomorrow or the day after, but if you, you know, wanted to leave anyway, why not stay with us?"

It wasn't an unreasonable thought. Still, she shook her head.

"I wanted to leave him behind. Not my world. He's not my world. He never was, and he never will be. There is so much else for me there, and ... it is my home. The galaxy as I know it."

She had never felt particularly patriotic about anything. Inara had supported the Alliance during the war because she thought that romantic notions about independence aside, a central government and common laws for everyone were far more advantageous than letting every settled planet form its own kind of misery, but there had been no particular passion attached to her support. The victory of the Alliance had filled her with relief, not happiness. And she certainly felt no nostalgia for the planet she had grown up on, or the mother house. If she did, she would have never chosen to live on a space ship.

And yet now she couldn't help but think of everything, from the sophistication on Persephone to the outer planets with their mud and their cows and their shoot first, think later attitudes with a strange sense of longing. Which had nothing to do with finding the prospect of being a nurse for the rest of her life, as opposed to a short while, unappealing.

"Well," she said, "maybe I'll figure out a way to get back there eventually. Until then, I'll try to make the best of things here, and you certainly gave me a good start with that."

He smiled and started to clear the table. When she wanted to help, he protested again and gently but firmly nudged her out of the way.

"You're such a caretaker," she said, an idea taking root in her mind. "You should let someone else do that for you."

"Oh, but I enjoy ..."

"I can see that," Inara said, and put her hand on his shoulder. "It's something we have in common, in our ways. But you know, I'm also a businesswoman. And if I'm really to start a new life here, let me do so on a clean slate, without any debts."

His confusion was evident. Maybe she had been wrong about his society being familiar with the concept of a Companion. Still, she wanted to give him a gift, one night free of responsibilities and nightmares, and she wanted to prove to herself she could still be a Companion in this new world. Nursing options and thoughts about starship captains be damned.

In order to make herself perfectly clear, she took his chin into her hand and kissed him. There was some taste of spicy potatoes left on his lips, and much innocence and bewilderment. Not quite virginal, but definitely deserving of being kissed far more often. _Kaylee_, Inara thought, _we've got to get you here. That's the man for you. You'd be adorable together. _

"But," Vir said, when he could draw breath again, "I can't. I mean. I'd be honoured. You're so .. but Inara, there are ... you see, we have six!", he finished helplessly.

"Six what?" Inara asked, letting her fingers trail along his waistcoat.

"Attributes," he whispered. "That's how we knew we really weren't the same species."

That gave her pause, but only for a moment.

"Well, then I am even more fortunate than I thought I would be," Inara declared mischieviously. "A Companion rarely has the opportunity to learn something new."

Something was stirring beneath Vir's waistcoat.

* * *

It took Inara most of night to learn how to engage all six _brachiarte_, and Vir Cotto gave every impression of enjoying the learning process. His initial shyness concealed a playfulness and talent which Inara hoped some lucky woman would appreciate in the future. At last, he fell asleep in her arms, and there were no nightmares. Despite her own exhaustion, she found herself awake a while longer. Maybe, she decided drowsily, her initial idea about being trapped in someone else's dream had been true after all, only it wasn't River's. Nandi's, perhaps, from wherever she was now; it would be like her old friend to dream up a chance of renewal for her, in a strange world, with a young man who reminded her why she had become a Companion.

_An exchange of gifts_, Inara thought. _You had the night I will never allow myself to have, and you give me a night that shows me I took the right path. It sounds like something you would do, Nandi._

Tomorrow might bring her the chance to return to her own world, or indeed another day in this new one. But, Inara concluded, watching the lighting of the room being filtered through the heavy purple curtains around the bed she and Vir had been using, whatever it would bring, she would face it on her own terms.

In a universe where space ships were purple and nice young men had six different members to explore the female body with, nothing was impossible.


End file.
